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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29894733">to hold you in my heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/emavee/pseuds/emavee'>emavee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dick &amp; Dami Week 2021 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Damian Wayne Gets a Hug, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne's Parent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Platonic Soulmates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:48:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,396</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29894733</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/emavee/pseuds/emavee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian doesn’t have a lot of soulmates. Father’s mark is faded, and although his mother’s is still as bright as it’s always been, he recognizes that there has been a shift in their relationship. His third soulmark, the one that had shocked him the most yet burns the brightest, connects him to Grayson. But Grayson has so many marks; Damian’s must be barely even a blip on his skin. </p><p>For Dick and Dami Week 2021: "Did you really mean that?"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dick &amp; Dami Week 2021 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198052</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>322</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>to hold you in my heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Batcest shippers do not interact. These are strictly PLATONIC soulmates thank you</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Damian feels weak and foolish for having let Todd of all people get under his skin. Todd knows nothing about him, is nothing more than a failed child soldier who was resurrected with an attitude problem. Todd doesn’t know anything about him and Grayson.</p><p>Todd’s words shouldn’t bother him, but they do. They twist and turn in his gut when he lays in bed at night and crawl up his throat when he tries to speak. </p><p>
  <em> “I am Grayson’s Robin,” Damian says, surprised everyday by how much pride he takes in that fact. “We carry each other’s marks.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Todd snorts. “You’re not special, kid. Have you not seen how many marks Dickie has?” </em>
</p><p>It was just a one-off line, barely even a dig, more of a dismissal than anything. Todd surely forgot all about it almost immediately, but Damian just can’t. Those words echo around in his head, over and over.</p><p>Of course Damian has seen how many marks decorate Grayson’s skin. It would be impossible not to, with the sheer number of them that exist. He covers them up for patrol, but during the day Grayson is a splatter painted canvas, a work of art that keeps evolving, even after the artist really should have learned how to stop. </p><p>But Todd is right, as loathe as Damian is to admit it. Damian doesn’t have a lot of soulmates. Father’s mark is faded, and although his mother’s is still as bright as it’s always been, he recognizes that there has been a shift in their relationship. His third soulmark, the one that had shocked him the most yet burns the brightest, connects him to Grayson. But Grayson has so many marks; Damian’s must be barely even a blip on his skin.</p><p>When Grayson’s mark had first appeared, running along the palm of his right hand and up his wrist, Damian hadn’t known what to think. He’d always been taught that soulmates were weaknesses, attachments that he couldn’t afford to have. But Grayson had proven time and time again that his own army of soulmates gave him strength, and something in Damian’s chest had felt so bright and… and, if he’s really being honest with himself, <em> happy </em> at the sight of Grayson’s mark. It meant that Grayson truly did care for him as he so often claimed, that maybe Damian starting to feel almost comfortable here in Gotham wasn’t a false sense of security. He’d felt wanted. <strike>He’d felt loved.</strike></p><p>And as scary as that thought was, he also couldn’t stop himself from reveling in the feeling every now and then. Sometimes, the thought makes him feel nearly invincible, even though he knows such thoughts are dangerous. They’re Batman and Robin, Richard and Damian, platonic soulmates. Family.</p><p>And Damian isn’t stupid. He knows Grayson and his father were soulmates too, that Father has shared a soulmark with every one of his Robins, even Brown, whose tenure was fleeting and ended in disaster. But he couldn’t help his stupid, naive pride. He’d mistakenly thought that what he and Grayson have is somehow special.</p><p>Perhaps his mother is right. Grayson truly is a fool, and Damian has only grown weaker and softer in his care.</p><p>He hugs his knees tightly to his chest, trying to get as small as he feels. It’s raining, but the outcrop above the small balcony he’s perched on shields him from most of it. Still, he can feel the chill of the air and the stinging droplets that splash against his bare feet. The cold grounds him and lets him drift at the same time.</p><p>He barely notices when the door behind him slides open, another person climbing out to join him. There’s barely enough space for Grayson to fit beside him, but that doesn’t stop the idiot from folding himself into the empty space to Damian’s left.</p><p>“If you’re going to sit out here and upset Alfie,” Grayson says, “you should at least wear a jacket.”</p><p>“I am not cold,” Damian replies, although the involuntary shiver that tears through him at that very moment probably gives him away. </p><p>Grayson hums, unconvinced like always. He shrugs off his own sweater and tugs it over Damian’s head without permission, ignoring his protests and indignation. </p><p>“I have no problems handling the cold,” Damian argues, feeling petulant. “I have certainly dealt with worse.”</p><p>Grayson glares out at the fog-filled city below them for just a moment, most likely using the poor, unsuspecting cars as stand-ins for Damian’s mother and grandfather. He would say something, but he is in no mood to argue again about his upbringing. It is a sore spot for the both of them, one that makes Damian almost nauseous to think about for very long.</p><p>“Humor me,” Grayson says instead.</p><p>Damian huffs. “I suppose. Although, I don’t see how this is helping to prevent Pennyworth’s wrath, seeing as you are now without anything to protect from the weather.”</p><p>“See, I would be worried about that, but I’m sure Alfred will forgive me for protecting his favorite.”</p><p>Damian shakes his head at Grayson’s absurdity. His fingers absentmindedly brush against the spot where Pennyworth’s mark colors his shoulder. Grayson catches him in the act and grins.</p><p>“So, what’s got you sulking out here in the cold, baby bat?”</p><p>Left now in nothing but a thin, short-sleeved t-shirt, Damian can see more of the marks adorning Grayson’s skin. The sight tugs him back, twists in his stomach and leaves him digging his fingernails into his palms. </p><p>“Do you ever worry about them?” Damian finds himself asking, looking pointedly at the marks on Grayson’s arms. </p><p>“Some,” Grayson says with a shrug. His long fingers brush over the mark running up his wrist—mirroring Damian’s own—faded grey and once belonging to Damian’s father. Damian can spy a few other faded marks, but he doesn’t know their owners, and he doesn’t dare to ask. </p><p>Damian nods, hoping Grayson will drop the subject of soulmarks for good. Of course, the thought is naive. Grayson will never leave a subject alone if he thinks it might be bothering Damian. It’s one of his most irritating qualities.</p><p>“It hurts,” Grayson says, voice so much softer now, “when they fade. But it’s still worth it, every time.”</p><p>“I don’t agree,” Damian says. “I think it is good that I have so few. So there are fewer chances for me to be debilitated by the sensations of a fading mark.”</p><p>The argument sounds weak and fabricated, even to his own ears. Grayson obviously sees through it, expression twisting into a frown.</p><p>“You know,” Grayson says after a moment, mirroring Damian’s position and hugging his knees close to his chest. “My parents were soulmates. I mean, most of the circus had each other’s marks, but my parents were special. Their marks for each other were in the center of their chests, right over their hearts.” He smiles, looking wistful, the way he usually gets when thinking about his biological family. “I always loved that. I used to wonder all the time who would appear over my heart.”</p><p>“That’s a nice story, Grayson,” Damian snaps with very little heat. “I fail to see how it could possibly be pertinent to me.”</p><p>But Grayson just smiles, finally turning to look at Damian. Damian resists the urge to squirm under his gaze, still unused to the gentle and plain affection in Grayson’s eyes. </p><p>“I waited for <em> years, </em>” he continues, ignoring Damian’s empty dismissal, “but the space over my heart just stayed blank, no matter how many new marks I got. When my parents died, I spent several years feeling angry and guilty, because I was so sure that space should have been for them. They were the most important people in the world to me, and it never felt like enough to carry their marks anywhere else.”</p><p>Grayson extends his fingers, hands resting palm-up atop his knees. Damian can see the familiar faded-grey marks, one in the center of each palm, where a much younger Richard used to grasp their wrists as he flew through the air, confident that his parents would always catch him. </p><p>“After that,” Grayson says, clenching his fists back up again, “I thought it would be Bruce or Alfred maybe. They took me in, raised me, saved me when I needed it most, but still nothing. And people kept on joining this ridiculous little family, little siblings that I loved with every fiber of my being. Then the Titans, who are just as much my family as you guys are. So many people came into my life that I loved so much that it felt like my heart might burst out of my chest. But you know who lives over my heart, who finally filled that empty space?”</p><p>Damian doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to play Grayson’s stupid game. He wants the man to leave him alone, where he can pretend like the mark on his wrist means as much to Grayson as it does to him.</p><p>“Who,” he grinds out, when it appears that Grayson isn’t going to leave him alone until he responds. “Starfire? Gordon? West?” </p><p><em> Todd? </em> he wants to ask. <em> Drake? </em> But their names get lodged almost painfully in his throat. </p><p>Grayson chuckles lightly. “No, not them. Not that I don’t love them, or that I don’t love all my siblings equally, but they’re not the ones over my heart.” He turns, his smile so gentle, so warm that Damian thinks it just might burn him. Being loved by Grayson is like being loved by the sun, and Damian is far too used to the dark for his rays not to scorch his skin. “It’s you, Damian.”</p><p>Damian stares. Blinks. Stares. He feels like he’s suddenly been dunked underwater. Nothing makes sense, the world tinged blurry and fuzzy. </p><p>Then Grayson lifts up the hem of his t-shirt, exposing his brightly-painted torso. Damian recognizes his own mark, right where Grayson claimed it to be, right in the middle of his chest. Even amongst the array of different colors, it stands out, just as bright as the colors on Damian’s own skin. His eyes burn, but he can’t blink, can’t do anything but stare.</p><p>“It’s you,” Grayson repeats. “My incredible, brilliant little brother. My kid. My…” He falters, still not ready to wade into those particular uncharted water, but Damian knows what he means. He knows, because he feels it too. Bruce Wayne is Damian’s father, but he is no longer the first person who comes to mind when Damian pictures that word. </p><p>Damian feels himself flush, feels his cheeks start to ache as he fights off a smile. “Grayson, I do not need you to—”</p><p>“But I need you to know,” Grayson interrupts. “I need you to know how much you mean to me, how important you are. How much I love you, Damian.” He pushes back the hair from Damian’s forehead, scratching gently at his scalp. “I would die for you,” he says softly. “I would kill for you. And I know I would never regret it. Never.”</p><p>Damian’s chest squeezes, painfully tight for a completely different reason now. “Do not do that. Ever, Grayson. Please. I—I know. I understand. You do not need to go to such lengths for me.”</p><p>Grayson tugs him sideways, and Damian falls easily. He buries his face against Grayson’s shoulder when he feels the press of a kiss to the crown of his head. </p><p>“As cheesy as it is to say,” Grayson murmurs, “you’re my heart, kiddo.” Damian can feel his ridiculous grin against his hair.</p><p>“Perhaps the universe chose wrong,” Damian can’t help but mutter. Grayson has so many marks, and any one of them could really be the one to rest over his heart. He deserves better than Damian.</p><p>“It didn’t,” Grayson says, squeezing Damian tighter. “It gave me the best kid in the whole world.”</p><p>Damian shakes his head. The universe did not. It gave him Damian, a killer with blood staining his very soul. </p><p>“It did,” Grayson insists. “Please, Damian, don’t ever doubt how important you are to me. The universe could not have chosen a better person. It gave me a kid who is so good at his core, who fought back against over a decade of training, who chooses to be a hero every single day despite that. It gave me someone who I am so proud to know and raise. It gave me someone who I am so proud to love, every single day.”</p><p>Damian can’t bear to move, can’t bring himself to do anything but just <em> breathe </em> and let himself be held. It feels like he’s being crushed, the air thick like honey, time moving in slow motion. His heart is bound to beat straight out of his chest; it’s all too much. All he can do is take it one breath at a time, his head and his heart struggling in equal parts to adjust to Grayson’s speech. </p><p>And through it all, Damian has never felt safer. He is terrified, overwhelmed and confused, but Grayson is there, and for the first time in his life Damian feels safe enough to put his life in someone else’s hands. Grayson would never hurt him, never let him be hurt. Remarkably, he is sure of this.</p><p>Damian breathes, and the tightness in his chest recedes more with each passing minute. </p><p>“Did you really mean that?” Damian asks finally. He feels wrung out, even though no tears have escaped his traitorously damp eyes. </p><p>“Of course I did,” Grayson says, but there’s no irritation in his tone. Just patience and reassurance, as sure and steady as Grayson always is. “I love you, Damian, so, so much.”</p><p>“I—I love you too,” Damian mumbles, pressing his nose even more into the shoulder of Grayson’s shirt.</p><p>Grayson laughs, a delighted, watery sound that shakes the both of them and vibrates Damian’s bones. He buries his nose in Damian’s hair and Damian lets him, knowing that the man must be cold now that Damian is the one drowning in his sweater. </p><p>“We ought to go back inside,” Damian murmurs. “Before Pennyworth comes to fetch us for dinner.”</p><p>“We should,” Grayson agrees, voice just as soft. He squeezes Damian tighter and Damian clutches desperately at the hem of his shirt.</p><p>Neither of them move, and Damian has never felt warmer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've been wanting to write a batfam platonic soulmate au for so long. This might eventually turn into a whole series idk</p></blockquote></div></div>
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